Charlotte House Affair 01 - My Particular Friend

am only being practical. It is obvious that my reputation is too well known and I do not wish to spread it further by involving myself in this matter.’
    ‘Please Charlotte, you must see for yourself the danger they face,’ I pleaded with my friend.
    ‘No, I do not Jane. Should I believe their word that this Gascoigne exists? And if he does, should I believe their characterization of him? I simply do not wish myself further embroiled. If what you say is true, then I hope for your success but I cannot act on your behalf based on your say so.’
    At this, the look on Charlotte’s face hardened and I could see it would do no good to argue with her. Mrs Brown also saw Charlotte’s determination and knew it would do no good to plead further and we lapsed into embarrassed silence. Fortunately our mutual friend found words to cover our silence. ‘What are your plans?’ Mrs Fitzhugh asked.
    Mr Simms coughed and said, ‘I was able to realize enough from Violet’s property to book passage to America and there we should start afresh.’
    ‘That will be hard, to travel to a new world and start over.’
    Mrs Brown spoke. ‘We realize this. But with an ocean between us and Edward, we can be man and wife without question.’
    ‘When are you to leave?’ I asked.
    ‘I am to leave to-day for Bristol,’ she said.
    ‘I will follow in two weeks,’ he said. ‘Until then, I am to act the part of a man abandoned by his love. I … Miss House, I am sorry that we … that I thought to involve you. I fear my fondness for the melodramatic led me astray.’
    At last some softness stole over Charlotte’s features.
    ‘I am certain you can act the part of the abandoned lover, Mr Simms. Good day to you then and my best wishes on your happiness,’ Charlotte said and turned to leave. The suddenness of her departure surprised us and we hastily made our goodbyes as well and hurried to follow our friend. We found her on the street. She made a quick wave of her hand and we could see half a dozen children scurry away like rats.
    ‘Charlotte, do you not think …’
    ‘Margaret, I do not wish to discuss it further. I spoke the truth; my reputation will be my undoing. Involving myself in this shall only add to it and for what—a mystery that is no mystery?’
    ‘Is it rather not that you loathe to aid them because by doing so you must admit to being taken in by their deception?’
    ‘Let us return home,’ Charlotte said, ignoring our friend.

A Visit from Edward Gascoigne
    A week has passed since we left Mr Simms and Mrs Brown, and what a difference a week makes. The disappearance of Mrs Brown has become widely known and has been the topic of conversation everywhere. Already several callers have asked Charlotte her opinion of the mystery, and she has been obliged to pretend she knows nothing of the matter and so she has had to hear the details of it presented to her again and again. I begin to suspect that Charlotte would rather admit to being baffled by the mystery than be forced to admit she is unaware of it. But she will have her pride.
    A bad feeling has also persisted between my friends. They do not openly discuss it but I think Charlotte was hurt by Mrs Fitzhugh’s accusation that Charlotte will not help the lovers because she would hate to pretend that she was deceived. Nevertheless she remains true to her promise not to expose their deception and so must make this pretence that she has remained ignorant of this news.
    Mrs Fitzhugh, however, I know has been the source of so much of the speculation surrounding the disappearance of Mrs Brown and has done her best to hint that woman must be fleeing a pursuer. Were it not that I hate to see my friends at odds I would have to say I find it amusing.
    I found myself the attention of Mr Wallace, who after a day of rest, became a frequent visitor to Number 1. Of course Charlotte made a great deal of his visits and the disruption of our routine, but I sensed that she did not very greatly mind his visits. His efforts on her behalf deserved at least her forbearance. And at least with him she could talk openly of the matter.
    And it was during such a visit that we were reminded of the disappearing bride when Robert came into the drawing-room with a card for Charlotte.
    ‘What is it, Robert?’
    ‘A caller, ma’am.’
    ‘One that you obviously do not care …’ Charlotte stopped as she read the name on the card. ‘Please, bring him in.’
    Mr Wallace stood and said, ‘Perhaps I